Circe Waits For Nobody
Circe shakes sand from inside the shack, wrestling the rugs with a frustrated snap, cackling songs with a maniacal laugh, but he’s not coming back
The Four Winds know but refused to say what pulls at the sky, what shifts it away, what shimmers the ground, day after day, while he refuses to stay
She scrubs every window in order to see linear lines dancing at the seams, sailing the waters of ancient dreams; And still, he takes leave
Circe sighs, sparks a fire for light, loosens the knots that held him tight, whispering spells to an enveloping night; gone to wind, like a kite
And so she is, pining for past, year after year, Circe waits, watching, for sails to appear but time has a way of deadening fear: Nobody’s presence, a ghost from tears